


A New Type of Bruise

by littlelostcat



Series: Challenge Responses [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Implied Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelostcat/pseuds/littlelostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac thinks about his father and his transformation into a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Type of Bruise

He remembers the first time his father hit him: it was a Sunday, his parents’ wedding anniversary, the swim team had lost the meet that weekend, and he’d failed a pop quiz in history on Friday. He knows now that it wasn’t his fault, but then? 

Then he’d cried himself to sleep; but not because of the five red lines that wrapped around his upper arm. He’d cried because his father was mad and yelling. His father was mad and yelling because of him. After that the bruises and bad nights slowly bled into one another. Another Tuesday, another anniversary, another bad game (for him or his father), another lesser grade. He couldn’t remember a night that he didn’t flinch and become acutely aware of the sound of his father’s car turning onto their driveway. 

He’d learned early on that no one questioned him when he wore long shirts; because it’s California and sometimes image, or lack thereof, takes precedent over fashion. He doesn’t remember every bruise or cut, he doesn’t remember how many times his father hit him that month or that year. But he remembers the fist that sent him to Derek.: he’d been minutes late coming home from practice because one of the guys on the team had stolen his backpack. 

He’d spent the night unable to open one eye and curled on his bed watching shadows under his door. The next day he’d had to look the sheriff in the eye and lie to him, with his father’s hand digging new marks into his shoulder. He wonders now if that had been the moment when Derek had decided to offer him the bite; or if Derek was just desperate for a pack like Scott claimed. Either way, he doesn’t regret his choice. 

 

He remembers walking through the empty alleys and into the darkened train depot. He remembers the cool air against his swollen eye. He remembers Derek standing in the hollowed-out train and walking down the steps. He’d nodded to Isaac and said, “You have to want it.”

“I do.”

“The bite is a gift,” he’d said, then Derek had taken a step forward and Isaac had stepped closer.

“I kn...know. I want it.” And he did, he wanted to be strong and fast. He wanted to not be scared. Derek had taken another step forward, almost closing the gap.

“There are hunters, other packs. There will be people who want you because of what you are.” They had been nearly toe to toe and he had felt the heat rolling hot between them. “If you do this, you can’t go back.”

“But it’ll make me strong?” And, oh, he’d hated the shiver in his voice and the way Derek’s gaze had flicked to his eye. He’d breathed deeply and for a moment it looked like his eyes were bright blue. 

“You won’t ever fear him again.” 

 

And, then, it was done. 

 

He remembers the night after the bite, after the bite took and didn’t kill him, and the look his father had given him when he’d come home from practice without the black eye. He’d made a joke about his son wearing make up, and Isaac had ducked his head and said something about it looking worse than it had been. He’d heard his own lie and felt the muted thrill of it, of the werewolf. He’d done his homework and chores, he’d kept his head down and had just wanted to get through the night. 

Then his father had found out about his grades, had thrown the cup, and he had jerked in his seat. When his father had thrown the glass and he’d jumped from his chair, he’d known he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stop the fear and anger twisting inside of him. But he hadn’t wanted to act. Instead, he’d run. 

That had been the first night he’d been terrified - not scared - of what his father had become and what he had become. 

It was the night that changed his life -- his father had died, his fear had transformed, and he had walked away without a mark on his skin. 

 

Even after everything, he knows he’d take the bite again. He knows he’d never talk someone like him out of it. It is a gift. He’s not afraid of the dark, he’s not afraid when talks loudly. He doesn’t jerk when someone touches him or when someone flicks a glance away from his eyes to his shoulders or torso. They aren’t seeing the half-hidden bruises, they see Isaac.

But. 

He also thinks about what happened to Erica; about how lost Boyd had looked when he’d found his way home. He thinks about Jackson’s transformation and Peter’s ... whatever. He thinks about Scott and his anger. He thinks about Derek and the Alpha Pack. And he rubs a human hand over his chest and thinks that maybe there are other ways for a werewolf to bruise.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com) Bruises challenge on LJ. I've never been abused and I don't know the situations that result from parental abuse; this is not meant to take any type of abuse lightly nor pass any judgement. 
> 
> I do not own Teen Wolf nor any of the characters therein, they belong to The Gift that is Jeff Davis and MTV.


End file.
